


Nothing He Can't Do

by airy_nothing



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airy_nothing/pseuds/airy_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before performing "Diva," Tina snaps a photo of Blaine—then contemplates sending it to Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing He Can't Do

Right before they get on stage, after Blaine has stopped swatting Marley’s hands away from his hair and draped himself in a red, feathery boa shrug, Tina grabs an image of him with her phone.

She does it without thinking. She does it because she wants to remember this moment. She’s never seen Blaine quite like this, for as many times as she’s heard him sing like a diva, he’s never really _looked_ like one—or her idea of one, anyway. Because really, how do you diva in a bow tie and deck shoes?

After they sing and return their shimmery garb to its place on the garment rack, Tina watches Blaine try to get his hair back under control. Just seeing those loose curls had given her shivers. It’s not like she hadn’t seem them before. She remembers Hall and Oates and those stupid mustaches; she remembers prom and Blaine’s reaction to the Hair Gel Ban. Maybe it’s because the curls today were _his_ choice?

Sitting in front of the mirror, wiping off her diva makeup, Tina takes in her reflection. She made an awesome diva today, too. She puts down the towelette she was using and runs her hand through her own full head of curls; she twirls one lock around her index finger, feels how it conforms to the shape of it. In the mirror she watches Blaine pass by in just a plain white T-shirt, in jeans now instead of leather, and the words “Mrs. Tina Cohen-Chang Anderson” come unbidden to her lips, in part to silence that tiny voice buried deep inside, the one that’s asking, _what are you even doing?_ And, _you know he’s in love with Kurt, right?_

Tina takes her phone in hand and finds the image, pinches her fingers wide so that Blaine’s face, so confident and sexy, fills the screen. What would Kurt think about Blaine’s performance today? she wonders. She actually huffs, surprised by her sudden bitterness. Even though Blaine has never really shared with her what happened between him and Kurt, Tina knows how it affected him.

Because Blaine has gone from a glum boy walking down the halls with leaden feet to a playful, sure, beacon of . . . something. Of hope. Of joy. Of _everything_. That he could deal with the pain of a break up and come out of it like this, like a hero—well, that’s something she really admires.

And all of it is in the picture she took this morning. At least she thinks it is.

She finds Kurt in her Contacts, she inserts the image of Blaine, she pauses to compose the text.

She writes, cryptically, _This is a stick-up_ , and finds that she doesn’t really care if Kurt gets any of it or not, because that’s what happens when you break up with someone. You keep getting out of bed every day, you keep putting your face on. And your lover? He does the same. And you keep doing that, even if it means you stop recognizing him. Or for that matter, yourself.


End file.
